


Surgeon's Hands

by swimmingwolf59



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Hand Jobs, Hand kink I guess, M/M, Nipple Play, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Vulcan Mind Melds, hand kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:08:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26557897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swimmingwolf59/pseuds/swimmingwolf59
Summary: McCoy wants to know if he can make Spock come undone just by using his hands. (Spoiler alert: he can.)
Relationships: Leonard "Bones" McCoy/Spock
Comments: 10
Kudos: 102





	Surgeon's Hands

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve never written porn without plot in my LIFE but I was thinking about Dax saying very suggestively that Bones has the hands of a surgeon and well…here we are 
> 
> Tagged as tos, but imagine whichever spones you like! I’m eternally grateful that into darkness also took the time to establish Bones’ legendary hands lol
> 
> Enjoy!

_Your hands found a dark switch in me_

_That I didn’t know existed_

_—Snow Patrol, “A Dark Switch”_

The first serious thing Spock tells McCoy when they start dating is about the sensitivity of Vulcan hands.

“As you are well aware, Vulcans are touch telepaths,” Spock tells him when they get around to actually talking. He has McCoy crowded up against a wall, finally taking action after essentially eye-fucking him across the room for the last twenty minutes. “Our hands are our most prominent telepathic features; we can sense the most from others when we use our hands to touch them. Thus, our hands are quite sensitive to stimuli, much more so than human hands.”

“Really,” McCoy drawls, pretending that he’s not listening with rapt attention.

This is fairly new, this thing they’ve been doing. It had started, as it always did, because of an argument. McCoy is always beating Jim and Spock over the head about being careful on away missions, but that time it was him that got beaten up doing something stupid. When Spock stormed into his office after he’d been allowed back on duty, he’d expected a nasty argument that would lead to them not speaking for several days. He’d gotten an argument, since neither of them really had the right to tell the other to value their own lives, but after that Spock had kissed him, hard, and in a matter of minutes McCoy had found himself bent rather painfully over his desk desperate for Spock to fuck him. And afterwards, Spock had cradled his face in his hands, kissed him so sweetly, and McCoy realized that they had both been waiting for this for a long time.

But finding time for each other is difficult when they both work double shifts more often than not. The next time, McCoy had jumped Spock in his lab in the wee hours of the morning when all of his ensigns had gone to bed. The time after that had been in the turbolift, where McCoy had given Spock a blowjob that left the Vulcan blushing green when they got to the Bridge. 

That’s why McCoy wants this time to be special, now that they both finally have a full day off together. It had annoyed him that Spock had insisted on finishing his report first, bothered him in an entirely new way when Spock would occasionally throw those bedroom eyes at him in between writing.

But now it’s totally worth it, as he has Spock’s complete attention.

“Indeed. Additionally, we use our hands prominently for intimacy, such as kissing.” Spock presses his fingers urgently against McCoy’s. “Or sex.”

McCoy swallows and turns his hands over, pressing his fingertips directly to Spock’s. A quiet gasp falls from Spock’s mouth, and McCoy may not be a touch telepath, but _damn_ he can understand the appeal of kissing like this. Pleasure jolts up his fingers like lightning where Spock’s fingers touch his, and he can only imagine how it must be feeling for Spock.

He wonders what would happen if he used his hands for everything.

Spock bends forward, likely intending to kiss him the human way, but McCoy tilts his head away with a smirk. “Uh-uh, I have something else planned for us today.”

Spock raises an eyebrow, and is about to retort, but McCoy places his finger on his lips to silence him. His other eyebrow raises to join the first, but he doesn’t dare interrupt.

“So what you’re telling me,” McCoy practically growls, and revels in the pleasure at seeing Spock’s pupils dilate, “is that Vulcans have a thing for hands.”

“Leonard,” Spock murmurs, voice strangled. He licks his lips, inadvertently licking McCoy’s finger that’s still resting there, and they both shiver.

“Darlin’, all you had to do was ask – I can absolutely deliver,” McCoy drawls, smirking as he digs his thumb into Spock’s palm.

Spock’s eyes slide shut as his whole body jerks, a sharp exhale leaving him. He presses into him, his awakening interest prominent against his thigh, but McCoy moves his leg out of the way.

“The only thing you’re getting off on today,” he mutters, meeting Spock’s gaze as his eyes flutter open again, “is my hands. Sound good to you?”

Spock opens his mouth, but absolutely nothing comes out. He’s staring at McCoy with wide, dilated eyes, and McCoy can’t help but be turned on just by looking at him. Making Spock come apart is always a challenge, but McCoy has always loved a good challenge.

He continues stroking his fingers across Spock’s hand as he slowly backs them away from the wall and towards the bed. With his other hand, he rubs his thumb slowly over Spock’s lips, jaw, ear. When he reaches the tip, Spock lets out what could only be called a growl and grabs McCoy’s hips, pulling him down with him as he sits on the edge of the bed.

McCoy falls rather clumsily into Spock’s lap, but he settles quickly, straddling his hips as he uses both hands to rub and twist the tips of Spock’s ears. Spock groans, burying his face in McCoy’s chest and breathing hard. His slips his hands up under McCoy’s shirt, his fingers cool against McCoy’s flushed skin, and McCoy moans.

“Leonard,” Spock says on a sharp exhale, “I require…I require your hands everywhere.”

McCoy snorts, but hell if Spock saying so desperately that he needs him doesn’t go straight south. “Patience, Spock – isn’t that what you’re always telling me?”

Spock lets out what sounds suspiciously like a human sigh, and McCoy grins. He trails his hands down Spock’s face again, pressing rough finger kisses to his jaw, his lips, just under his chin, his collarbone. Spock’s eyes are closed, but his pulse is thundering in his throat. McCoy traces his pulse line with a teasingly light finger, watching as a green flush taints Spock’s skin.

God, he wants to bite him. But that’ll have to wait until next time.

McCoy peels off Spock’s uniform, tosses it across the room, and then places his hands flat against his tight stomach. He can feel Spock’s heart fluttering under his fingers, and he scrapes his nails against the skin covering it.

Spock’s hands fly up to cover his, urgently finger-kissing his wrists, his fingers, the backs of his hands. They’re both breathing hard now, and McCoy is starting to become too uncomfortably hot for his own clothes. Spock must be able to feel it, and for a moment there is a brief struggle as Spock tries to rid him of his shirt while McCoy is still trying to scratch Spock’s skin.

“Leonard,” Spock growls at him, “This is highly illogical.”

McCoy’s shirt is half over his head, so he can’t really see, but he pinches Spock’s nipples _hard_ for that. A strangled, aborted sound comes out of Spock’s throat, and then it doesn’t matter that McCoy isn’t cooperating because Spock just rips his shirt off of him.

“Hey,” McCoy tries to sound indignant, but he ends up laughing instead, “You better not tell Jim you ripped my shirt.”

Spock raises an eyebrow at him, eyes dark, and leans forward to mouth at McCoy’s chest. McCoy gasps as Spock’s tongue swirls around his nipple, and he tips his head back, momentarily forgetting his mission. He’s brought back to it when Spock’s strong hands grip his ass and pull him further against him, making them both gasp as their erections brush together through their clothes.

He loves getting manhandled by Spock, but right now he wants to make _Spock_ come apart, not come apart himself.

He draws himself up again, digs his fingers into those sensitive Vulcan neck nerves, and Spock goes down easily. Now belly-up on the bed, Spock watches with obvious interest as McCoy crawls up his body so he can remove both of their pants. He spends some time palming Spock through his underwear, taking immense pleasure from watching Spock writhe on the bed and resort to biting his tongue to prevent any noises from coming out.

Spock always has impeccable control, but McCoy wants him to _lose_ it. 

He takes his time trailing down Spock’s body, digging his fingers under his pectoral muscles, in the dip of his heart, along those beautiful hip bones. Spock lets out a shaky breath and reaches up to touch McCoy’s face with his fingertips. His fingers are splayed at his psi points, but he doesn’t meld with him yet. It’s his own way of teasing, and getting back at McCoy for taking so long.

“You’re a little shit sometimes, you know that?” McCoy mutters, but he does finally free them both of their underwear.

“I have no idea what you’re—” Spock’s words cut off in a strangled whine as McCoy reaches down to grab his leaking cock. He squeezes until he can feel Spock’s baculum, and then he starts pumping in slow, agonizing strokes. Spock’s head slams back against the pillow, and his voice is raw when he grits out, “Leonard, I believe _you_ are the ‘little shit’, as you put it.”

McCoy grins and uses his free hand to press a finger against Spock’s lips. “Shh, darlin’, just shut up and enjoy it.”

Spock bites his fingers, and McCoy lets out a harsh exhale as he pumps Spock harder.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of watching Spock slowly fall apart when they have sex. He soaks it in every time – the way Spock’s skin flushes green, the way his eyes squeeze shut like it’s taking every ounce of his control to remain composed, the way he eventually can’t keep it in anymore and ragged moans escape his throat. McCoy loves it, loves him, desperately.

He’s getting close now – they’ve done this enough by now that McCoy can tell. Spock’s breathing is erratic; his fingers are shaky where they’re still pressed against McCoy’s face. McCoy slows his pace, watching with amusement as Spock’s eyes shoot open to glare at him. McCoy stares back at him innocently. Then he twists his wrist, and Spock actually _moans_. And _damn_ , Spock isn’t even touching him with the intention of pleasuring him and McCoy is so painfully hard.

“Dammit, Spock,” he hisses. “If you’re gonna do it, you better do it now.”

Spock raises an eyebrow, and McCoy growls. He removes his hand from Spock’s mouth and drapes it over the hand Spock has on his face, squeezing it tightly, and Spock finally slips into his mind with a groan. McCoy gasps as he can _finally_ feel the blinding pleasure in his own mind, too.

“ _Spock_ ,” McCoy breathes, and they both moan as McCoy rubs his fingers against the base of Spock’s cock.

He starts pumping him again, neither of them very patient anymore. The pleasure builds like a cacophony in their minds, a blinding white light that sends shooting sparks of pleasure down both of their spines. It is unbelievably sexy that McCoy can feel Spock’s pleasure like this, that they can burn this hot together.

He digs his thumb into Spock’s slit, and Spock’s body lurches underneath him.

“ _Leonard_ ,” Spock moans, and that’s all it takes.

They come together, both gasping as the pleasure overwhelms them. It’s so intense that it takes McCoy a second to come back to himself after the meld is broken. He gasps for breath, sinking his head down onto Spock’s shoulder. Spock’s hands come up to thread listlessly through his hair, and for a moment they just stay like that.

When he musters the strength, McCoy rolls over onto the bed next to Spock, shoulder to shoulder, both of them breathing heavily.

“Spock?” he says when he’s caught his breath.

He can’t help but feel smug when it takes Spock a long time to respond. “Yes, Leonard?”

“I think I should give you hand jobs more often.”

Spock lets out a breath that would’ve been a laugh if he had been fully human. “I am amenable to that.”

“Good.” McCoy swallows. “Because I’d like to see you top that.”

That eyebrow goes up. Then Spock rolls on top of him and proceeds to demonstrate that Vulcan hands aren’t the only things that are sensitive.

**Author's Note:**

> The baculum is a penis bone that’s present in most mammals, humans of course not included. It’s believed to have evolved in species that have long mating periods to protect the penis from being damaged during prolonged mating, so you bet Vulcans would evolve to have one to get through pon farr 🤟🏻
> 
> [Here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QCZH-QRKzcM) is the link to the snow patrol song quoted at the beginning
> 
> Find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/kaoru_of_hakone) ! 🖖🏻


End file.
